


Taken

by charis2770



Series: Finding Vengeance...or is it Something Else? [26]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Anal Sex, Kidnapping, Liu Feilong's family are evil bastards, M/M, Torture, Triad - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 15:17:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2029917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charis2770/pseuds/charis2770
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story takes place after the timeline wherein, in the manga, the events of Finder no Rakuin have occurred. Feilong's "family" knows Tao is the true Baishe heir and they're finally ready to get rid of inconvenient perverts. They use Yoh to get to Feilong, leaving Asami and Akihito with only clues to help them mount a desperate rescue attempt.</p><p>This one is grim. It contains a scene where Feilong is forced to rape Yoh, as well as some really bad stuff with knives and South African torture implements. Please be warned before reading!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Taken

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't a happy story. It's brutal and dark. If depictions of rape and torture, specifically of loved ones being used against one another, you may way to give this one a pass.
> 
> I'm trying to clarify in everything I post which AU setting the story/chapter belongs to, as I've got two parallel universes happening side by side. This one is NOT part of Love by Any Other Name which is the ongoing story of the triad relationship between Asami, Akihito, and our OC, Haruki. 
> 
> This one IS part of the Finding Vengeance series, which is the accompaniment to my blog, askasamifaiandaki.tumblr.com wherein everybody has grown the fuck up and gotten over themselves and are engaged in healthy BDSM relationships that work, and are sometimes sweet, sometimes sexy, sometimes downright filthy. Asami, Aki and Feilong are a thing. Yoh and Feilong are also a thing. Check out the blog if you haven't, and if you don't read any of the other stories in this series, you will probably be a little lost.

He blames himself. He realizes Yoh would disagree. He hopes they’ll have a chance to argue about it. Japan has made them complacent. They’ve let their guard down. His face pale as wax, lips and fingers numb, he lets the photos fall from nerveless hands and sits with a thump on the chair behind him when his legs refuse to support him.

The pictures could have been taken almost anywhere. Nondescript concrete floor, bare walls, no windows in the shots. The star of the series is anything but nondescript, although the blood coating his face like a gruesome mask might make it hard from some to tell. The small jewelry box at Feilong’s left elbow explains the blood, as it contains an ear. He knows, despite the blood, who it is. Would know even if he were hooded or masked, for he knows every inch of the naked body in the pictures as well as he knows his own skin.

Yoh.

There are a dozen pictures in all, including one of the knife taking his lover’s ear, but nothing more than hands to represent his captors. As though Feilong doesn’t know. Aside from the ear, Yoh doesn’t look much the worse for wear in the pictures. They must have tranquilized him, because there’s no way he’d have let them take him this unscathed. 

There’s a note.

You will tell no one. Take your leave of your perverse Japanese toy. If you reveal any of this to him, your lover dies. Come to the address on the back of this paper by midnight or your lover dies. Come alone, or again, your lover dies. 

He believes them, because they’re not lying. He can’t be certain which one of Yan’s relatives…men he’d thought to be his own relatives for many years…is actually behind it, but it doesn’t matter They don’t dare try to breach Asami’s security. He knows without a shadow of a doubt that they mean every word they say, and that it’s likely they’ll be watching him. And Asami, and probably Aki as well. Until he’s safely in their clutches, where Asami cannot find them, Yoh’s life hangs in the balance. He knows it does anyway. That they’re going to kill him. Kill both of them. 

He obeys their instructions. He leaves Asami a message using his own cell phone. It’s likely they’ve cloned it, so he’s careful to follow instructions to the letter. 

“I’ve been called to Hong Kong on urgent business. I’ve no idea when I’ll return, if at all. This is growing boring. Our business deals are essentially wrapped up, except for that one contract with your relatives in Keiyo. Don’t bother calling, I’m much too important a person to be bothered with your little obsessions. You’ve been entertaining, but I’m finished with you. Don’t bother following me to Hong Kong either. You won’t find me.”

He presses the button to end the call and misses his pocket twice before sliding the phone into it. His hands are shaking. He looks at them and frowns. That won’t do. He knows Asami’s in a video conference for the next two hours, with some people from America, and that Akihito is on a stakeout to get pictures of a minor political figure who is cheating on his wife. Thus their absence at this late hour. He changes clothes rapidly, out of his comfortable  “around the house” clothing and into one of his business suits. One he’s had specially altered. Methodically, with skill born of practice, he begins adding knives to hidden pockets. They’ll find most of them. If they strip him…and he knows that’s likely…he’ll be without their aid. There aren’t many other places on his body he can hide a weapon though, so he’ll hope for the best. He doesn’t bother with a gun. They’ll have one to Yoh’s head, and won’t drop it until they’re sure Feilong isn’t carrying.

He takes a cab. He doesn’t want to steal one of Asami’s several cars. He’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to return it. It’s late, but not too late, so he reaches the appointed address in plenty of time. It’s a nondescript warehouse in a row of other nondescript warehouses a couple of blocks off Tokyo bay. The street is dark, with no traffic. It rained earlier in the day, and he can still smell the damp on the asphalt. It mingles with the smell of salt in the air, as well as the refuse that pollutes the industrial shoreline of the bay. He stops for a moment to listen.  There’s nothing. Either they’re being quiet, or the place has been soundproofed. That Yoh had been naked and chained by his wrists to some unseen overhead bar or hook or beam makes the second option the most likely. Screams echo beautifully off bare warehouse walls, and they won’t want to be heard by an unlikely passerby. Not that they’ll be able to make Yoh scream for them easily. 

“Asami,” he thinks bleakly. He’s desperately afraid. He’s walking into his death and he’ll be taking Yoh with him. He’s terribly, terribly sorry too. And he is angry. They have taken that which belongs to him, and it doesn’t matter that he’s unlikely to succeed. He has to try to save him.

He knocks on the door.

****************************************

Asami has Suoh swing by Akihito’s stakeout to pick him up before heading home. At least the little brat is where he said he’d be this time. He puts up a token protest at being crammed bodily into the back of the limo when he tries to refuse to accompany them, claiming he’ll just stay another hour or so. Asami rolls his eyes and ignores the annoyed protests and shuts Aki up with a kiss.

The message light is flashing on the answering machine when he opens the door. That’s a little surprising, since not many people know his home phone number and the better way by far to reach him is at work or on his cell. Aki doesn’t pay attention to it, toeing off his sneakers and heading for the kitchen. Always hungry, that one. Asami watches his ass in his snug, faded jeans and decides to give his pet something else to do with his mouth in a little bit. He leans over and presses the playback button on the answering machine and listens as he takes off his shoes. He recognizes Feilong’s voice, and a moment later he straightens abruptly from bending to untie his shoes, staring at the answering machine as though it’s sprouted wings and a tail.

“Is that FeiFei’s voice?” calls Aki from the kitchen. “Why’d he leave a message on THAT old thing? Will he and Yoh be here for supper?”

Asami doesn’t answer him. He can’t. He presses the button again, listening to the shocking words Feilong has left him with. It is on the third playback that Aki wanders back into the entry hall and hears what the message says. He stares at the answering machine in disbelief.

“Did…did he just dump you…by PHONE?”

“I don’t think so,” says Asami quietly, a sick feeling rising in his gut. Feilong would never have said the things on that message.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” demands Aki, sounding frightened.

“Oh yes,” agrees Asami, pressing the button yet again.

“WHAT business in Keiyo?” asks Akihito in confusion.

“We don’t have any.”

“It’s…it’s a code, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I’m almost certain it is,” agrees Asami, stepping past Akihito and heading for his home office, where he opens a wall safe and begins removing things from it. Aki trails after him and watches with wide eyes. 

“Th-that’s a lot of bullets,” he falters. 

“Rounds,” says Asami absently, beginning to load extra magazines.

“You understood the message, didn’t you?” demands Aki shrilly. Asami ignores the question and picks up another magazine. Aki rushes to his side and grabs his wrist, which doesn’t slow him down very much. “DIDN’T YOU?”

“Yes,” growls Asami. “Go down and see if Yoh is in his apartment…and if he is all right. I’ll explain when you get back.”

“No fucking way,” says Aki stubbornly. “You’re just trying to get rid of me so you can leave me behind!”

“You’re getting smarter,” says Asami with a sigh.

“I LOVE HIM TOO!” yells Aki, tears welling up in his eyes, of anger and fear.

“Calm down,” snaps Asami, thumbing another round into the magazine in his hand. He’s a little surprised when Akihito DOES calm down.

“Look,” he says breathlessly, talking fast, “I’m safer with you than alone. You’re going to need to take Kirishima and Suoh with you, and if the bad people are watching this place…well this could be something meant to get at YOU, so I might not be safe here. And I’m not…very good in a fight…but I’m small and I know how to get in and out of spaces you wouldn’t  believe and I can do it quietly too! I’d never get the pictures I do if my marks heard or saw me. You need me, Asami. And Feilong needs US.”

Asami stares at him appraisingly for several seconds, his eyebrows lifting slightly. Akihito opens his mouth to keep arguing but Asami stops him.

“You can come. You’ll obey every order I give you instantly and to the letter, or you will be punished every day until I get over being angry…and… distressed. And that will take a very long time.”

“I promise,” says Aki earnestly. Asami hands him a gun and he stares at it as if it may grow fangs and bite him.

“You’ll carry it whether you like it or not. Do you remember your lessons?”

Hands shaking, Aki checks to see that the safety is on, works the slide and looks into the chamber. There’s a round in it, so he ejects it, then drops the magazine and presses the round back into it. He checks the barrel of the gun for residue by looking through it at a light, then closes the slide and gently drops the hammer before working the slide again to re-chamber a round so that the gun is ready to fire. Asami nods and goes back to his preparations.

“First, Feilong would never leave a message on the answering machine here. Second, he called from the cell he uses in China. Third, the only people who think he’s the one in charge of this relationship are his relatives, and the only reason he’d word things the way he did would be for their benefit. Yoh is missing as well.” He gestures with his chin towards the monitor in his desk which currently shows various views of the empty apartment below. “I don’t have relatives in Keiyo. He means me to know it’s HIS relatives, in case I hadn’t already figured it out. Keiyo is an industrial district. That’s where he’s headed. He says not to call his cell, which means he won’t answer and that it would mean trouble for him if I did, and not to look for him in Hong Kong because he’s here in Japan and doesn’t think they’re planning to take him back to Hong Kong.” He pulls out his cell and calls Kirishima. His voice is clipped and cold. “I need you to check the garage and see if any of the cars are missing.” He pauses and waits. “Smart man,” he murmurs when Kirishima informs him that all are accounted for. “Check building security and see how Feilong left.” When it’s determined that he’d taken a cab, Asami orders Kirishima to start calling cab companies and find one that did a pickup at this building within the last couple of hours. Then to find out where it dropped its passenger. 

Akihito watches while Asami finishes his preparations. If the situation were not so dire, and if he weren’t as frightened as he is, he would probably be appreciating the view a lot more. Asami multitasks beautifully, loading extra mags and deftly stowing them in pockets and the mag pouches on the underside of his shoulder holsters, having added a second one on his right side. He’s right-handed but he can shoot with either hand, as Aki has seen him do on the range where Asami has taken him a few times to teach him how to handle a firearm safely and to use one to defend himself if it is ever necessary. As he holsters the second Sig, twin of the one he carries on a daily basis, he opens a black duffel bag and checks it contents. Small bolt cutters, night vision goggles, a length of lightweight but strong rope, a collapsible baton, gloves, tiny pen lights, a lockpick set, three thick stacks of cash wrapped with paper bands. He adds two silencers while he speaks to Suoh on the phone. He strips off his vest and shirt while answering Kirishima’s call, then strides to the bedroom with the duffel in his hand, where he pulls on a tight-fitting black under armor shirt and drops his wool slacks to the ground. 

“Do you…should I change clothes too?” asks Aki anxiously. Asami spares him a glance as he pulls up black fatigues and fastens the button on the waistband with one hand and slides a couple of knives into his pockets with the other.

“No,” he says after a moment. “You’re already dressed as I’d have had you do, since you were on a stakeout tonight. Take this. We’ll both use it in the car.” He tosses Aki a compact filled with a cake of greasepaint, then tells him to go and get the first aid kit. In the scant minutes it takes Akihito to haul the big first aid kit out from under the kitchen sink, Asami has put on a pair of jump boots and meets him in the hall. Akihito’s breath catches in his throat. The man is savagely beautiful, and has never reminded him more of a predator than he does right now. Aki’s never seen anyone or anything so dangerous as his lover looks to him in this moment, Strangely, a sense of fierce pride wells up in his chest at the sight of him, magnificent in his cold rage. This is mine, he thinks to himself. He’s mine and I’m his and we’re going to save Feilong.

They hurry to the parking garage and Aki is a little surprised when Asami goes to the Veyron instead of the limo, tossing the duffel into the cramped space behind the seats.

“Where are Kirishima and Suoh?” he asks, climbing in obediently when Asami gestures at him to do so.

“They’re bringing the helicopter,” replies Asami, starting the car and backing out of its assigned space. “Depending on how long it takes Kirishima to find out what cab company picked Feilong up and then where he was dropped off, we may have to hunt for the location once we reach Keiyo district. Having eyes up high might make a difference. Rub on enough of that greasepaint to darken your face,” he adds. “If we need to operate in the dark or shadows, not much stands out more noticeably than pale skin when you’re wearing dark clothing.”

Akihito opens the little compact and rubs his fingertips through the black makeup, smearing it over his face. Asami grunts approval at him when he’s applied enough, then proceeds to darken his own face with one hand while driving the sleek sports car through the late night traffic. Though there’s less of it than during the day, Tokyo is a city that never really sleeps, so there are always cars on the roads. He hands Aki a tiny earbud mike and tells him how to use it. Aki curls the wire around his ear and tucks the bud inside as Asami does the same. His amber eyes are fixed intently on the road, weaving the Veyron through traffic like it is a spirited mount only he can control, and as fast as he’s going, Akihito’s pretty sure he IS the only one who could control it. As he drives, he talks, giving Aki instructions and then grilling him ruthlessly until he’s satisfied Akihito will remember them all. What various hand signs mean, how to get his radio to click and what certain combinations of clicks mean, forcing him to swear on his life that if Asami tells him to do it, he will run as far and as fast as he can, no matter what is happening.

“Call Kirishima if I tell you to run, once you’re certain you’re not being followed. He and Suoh will find you, and come help me.” He leaves unsaid the rest of the sentence, that they will come help if it isn’t too late. For a few minutes after the swift crash course in being part of what amounts to a special forces rescue operation, Asami is silent. It isn’t a peaceful silence. Rage vibrates in the air much like the visible heat waves that radiate from hot asphalt in Summer. Aki’s glad he’s not one of the bad guys. As they leave behind the sleek high rises of the wealthier districts and move into business districts and then finally into the more industrial sector, Asami sighs heavily and spares Akihito a brief glance.

“Aki,” he says softly. If Akihito didn’t know his lover better, he’d say Asami almost sounds hesitant. That sense vanishes as quickly as it came, his handsome features hardening and going cold once more. “You understand what is going to happen when we find Yoh and Feilong…don’t you?”

Akihito swallows hard and forces himself to nod.

“You…we’re not going there to catch the guys who took Yoh and FeiFei and turn them over to the police,” he whispers. “I know that. I’m not…I’m not dumb.”

“I’ve never thought you were dumb,” says Asami firmly. “You wouldn’t be here if I thought that. Sometimes foolish. But that isn’t the same thing.”

“I don’t…I’ll never be able to…to pull the trigger as easily as you do…”

“It isn’t easy,” murmurs Asami quietly. Almost too quietly for Akihito to hear him.

“Okay…I’m…actually glad to hear you say that. If…if they’d done anything besides this…besides taking people that we care about…I don’t think I could be okay with it. But they didn’t take them to scare them or scare us to prove a point or…whatever. They took them to kill them. I know that. And I…I know they’ll keep trying, if we don’t stop them now. Until they succeed. I do know, Asami.  I don’t think…I mean, I think I’ll only be able to pull the trigger myself if there’s really no other choice…and even them I’m not totally sure. But I’m…I’m glad Yoh and Feilong’s lives aren’t in MY hands. I’d hesitate…or choke. You won’t.”

“No,” agrees Asami. “I won’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A neccessary note on gun safety!
> 
> Akihito re-chambers a round into the gun he's checking for Asami's approval. Under MOST circumstances, this is not a very good idea. They, however, are going into what Asami expects to be a combat situation, and he wants their weapons ready to fire.
> 
> There ARE guns with extra safety features that help prevent accidental firing of a chambered round, but by no means do ALL guns have these features. Normally, when you chamber a round in a semi-automatic handgun, this leaves the hammer back, and the gun is literally ready to fire. Merely putting the safety on is NOT enough to make it safe.
> 
> Some handguns have decockers, enabling you to drop the hammer AFTER chambering a round, lessening the chance of accidental discharge dramatically. More and more handguns these days have multiple safeties built in to help reduce this risk even more, but unless you are a firearms expert, it is generally inadvisable to carry a gun around with a round in the chamber. Asami, of course, is an expert.
> 
> In one of the character extras, it is said that Asami uses a CZ75 pistol and also owns "several berettas." I'm taking artistic license with this, because I have access to my very own walking firearms encyclopedia and have thus learned a lot more about guns than I'd have ever expected ten years ago! The CZ is a Czech pistol. It isn't a bad gun, and is considered reasonably reliable for an economical handgun. Reasonably reliable and economical are simply NOT adjectives I think a man like Asami would use a criteria while gun shopping. Perfectly reliable and top of the line, best in its class, these are more the sorts of criteria I think he'd use. I've given him Sigs. 
> 
> No, they're not everyone's favorite gun. There are handguns that do cost more. However, I made that choice based on experience and research. I've asked several soliders and law enforcement officers what kind of gun they carry, and a majority of them swear by Sig Sauer. I found a video on YouTube of some guys putting a Sig to some pretty rigorous testing. I don't mean running a lot of ammo through it. I mean dropping it out of a helicopter, running over it with a steamroller, literally jackhammering it into the ground, burying it in mud. They pick it up and fire it immediately after each ordeal. It never breaks, never jams, and never misfires. Asami doubtless owns a LOT of guns. I chose the Sig (probably the P250 fullsize - he has big hands and he's physically strong, and the P250 comes chambered in multiple calibers, most notably the .40 cal and .45ACP which have more stopping power than a standard 9mm, although the P250 is available in 9 also, and it has a higher magazine capacity than most of their other models)


	2. Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asami, Akihito and the bodyguards Suoh and Kirishima narrow the search. Things get worse for Feilong and Yoh. Akihito is NOT part of the problem for once! Things are still very grim!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The things happening to Yoh and Fei in this story have nothing to do with BDSM. They're not meant to be exciting or sexy, but to be dark and disturbing. Please don't try them at home. If you do, please turn yourself in to the police.
> 
> On a less horrible note, I get tired of Akihito ONLY being portrayed as a useless, silly fool whose belief in Good helps him manage to pull through. There's no way in hell, in my opinion, if he were actually living with not one but THREE badasses and their badass bodyguards, Asami wouldn't make sure Aki was getting lessons in handling firearms and in self defense. He's a good invesitgative reporter too, and limber as hell, so I wanted to let him shine a little. I apologize if this goes against your image of him as the perpetual victim, but that image just doesn't work for me, when everybody he sleeps with and lives with probably know hundreds of different ways to kill a person. Would they REALLY let him continue to be a helpless damsel in distress? I just can't believe they would.
> 
> Oh, also...in the manga, Tao calls Feilong Fei-sama. Sama is, of course, a Japanese honorific because it's written in Japanese. I've looked up Chinese honorifics because in reality, Tao would be speaking Chinese, not Japanese. I don't know if it's a correct one. This one is meant to refer to a father or father figure, and means something like Shining Respected One or something like that. Please forgive me if it's wrong. I'm aware it's a little archaic, but I can see Feilong being into archaic forms of respect. I also do not know Tao's full name. I'm certain it is more than just "Tao," but I left it that way because we're not told, as far as I know, what his whole name is, and I believe the family would begin using Liu as his surname as soon as they knew, and STOP using it as Feilong's surname. (For anyone who doesn't know...Feilong was of course, NOT the elder Liu's bastard son as he thought. Yantzu survived being shot by Asami and had been living in Taiwan. Feilong found out and went there, finding Yoh and asking him to get rid of Yan, who was dealing drugs and using them as well. Tao had followed, and Yan kidnapped the boy, not knowing Tao was his biological son. He abused Feilong who went along to save Tao. Yoh came to the rescue and killed Yan. I'm using a pared-down version of these events in my storyline, but that's as brief an explanation as I can give for these events. I hope I'm not confusing anyone!

The astonishing irony isn’t lost on him, when the door opens and he’s faced with a wide expanse of cold concrete floor, his lover at the far end, on his knees, naked and bloody and with a gun pressed firmly to the back of his head…that it is living THEIR lies for so very long which enables him to paint the bored expression on his face which is perhaps the biggest lie of all and to walk forward calmly. Yoh is glaring at him, and Feilong can practically hear him shouting, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

He stands still, arms outstretched, while they frisk him for weapons. They’re mainly concerned with finding a gun. He doesn’t have one. This causes his….nephew? Cousin? It doesn’t matter really, since there’s no bond of blood between them anymore, not now that they know the truth of Tao’s parentage. And his own. At any rate, the man removes his gun from Yoh’s head, and that’s all Feilong cares about at the moment. They do find six of the knives during the search as well, but he hardly notices.

“Well?” he says imperiously, “I’m here. I’m alone. What do you want?”

Since getting him and Yoh alone so they can be safely exterminated is what he expects, he’s surprised to discover that they do actually want something from him.

“You will call Liu Tao and inform him that you are leaving Baishe, effective immediately, and that he is its rightful heir and that he shall from this day forth defer to his uncles and cousins as his devoted guardians,” says his onetime Uncle coldly. He barks out a startled laugh. His uncle’s face flushes and ugly, mottled red.

“So little Tao refuses to fall in line for you, does he?” says Feilong snidely, although inside, he’s exultant. Good for Tao. “Won’t obey you, keeps asking for his Fei-zunshang, does he? How difficult for you.”

“That is only because he doesn’t know you for the degenerate you are,” spits one of the cousins. His uncle glares at the younger, who subsides, but not before spitting again, on Yoh this time. A short nod and a jerk of the older man’s chin has two of his offspring (they’ve brought six men to subdue one assassin, how flattering, thinks Feilong, looking at Yoh without letting his sorrow show on his face). A sturdy table is dragged away from the wall and a video camera set upon a tripod. Feilong begins to get a nauseous tickle in his stomach when Yoh is dragged to the table and bent over it.

“Indeed,” sneers his uncle nastily, “the boy does not know what a sick freak you are, Fei Long. So you’re going to show him. Then I’ll give you another opportunity to make that phone call.”

“As much as I’d like to accommodate you,” says Feilong as calmly as he can, “I’m afraid I have to refuse. I’m just not in the mood, you see.”

His uncle picks up one of the knives they’ve taken from Feilong and looks it over interestedly. Feilong takes a deep breath, readying himself for the torture he knows will come. He tries to empty his mind, find the place inside him where he is often able to go to escape from pain. His concentration has a price, because he hasn’t even time to cry out in negation when his Uncle casually lifts the knife and plunges it into Yoh’s hand, pinning it to the table. Yoh grunts softly and his face underneath its bloody mask goes pale, teeth sinking into his own lip to bite back a cry of agony. The uncle seems disappointed when he doesn’t get more of a reaction, but apparently Fei’s shocked gasp and horrified expression are enough, for he smiles.

“Get in the mood,” he advises coldly.

“Do it,” says Yoh softly, in Korean. None of the other men present speak the language. “Don’t give them a reason to hurt you.”

“What did he say?” demands one of the cousins angrily.

“He’s begging me not to do it,” says Feilong. “He reverts to his native language when he’s frightened or upset.” He says is dismissively, giving it no real emphasis in hopes that will make it more believable to them.  

“I thought he was Japanese,” says one of the cousins suspiciously. Feilong shrugs, and that seems to be the end of it. 

“This is all very interesting,” snaps his uncle, “but not the point. Fuck your boyfriend, Fei Long. Isn’t it nice I’m giving you one last chance to be together?”

“Honestly,” says Feilong with a small sneer, “but if you plan to kill me anyway, why should I do anything you want?”

“Because if you don’t,” replies the older man, “I will start cutting off his fingers.” He picks up a second knife and lays the edge of the blade just above the knuckle of Yoh’s left index finger, the one of the hand pinned to the table. “Now. Strip.”

Damn it. He’d expected them to take his clothing at some point, but was beginning to hope they’d forget, and that he’d have a chance to use one of the other half-dozen blades they didn’t find in their amateur search.  Slowly, he complies, for the knife blade begins to bear down on Yoh’s finger.

“You leave me no choice,” he says with as much dignity as he can manage while stripping naked in front of a room full of men who hate him. “But I’m not a trick pony who can perform just because you demand it. You and your trained watchdogs back off and give me some room.”

His uncle looks at him appraisingly, and it is of course patently obvious that Feilong is very not in the mood for carnal delights at the moment. He narrows his eyes and looks consideringly from Yoh then back to Feilong.

“Very well,” he says at length. “We’ll give you a bit of room.” He jerks his head at his sons, who back away reluctantly. “But this traitor scum is going to be getting fucked within the next 5 minutes. Whether by you or by this is up to you.” He leans down and pulls an aluminum baseball bat out of a duffel bag on the floor, showing it to both of them. He picks up the bag and strolls off with it and the bat, until he and the goon squad are all about 20 feet away, guns trained on Yoh and Feilong. Fei steps to the table and looks down at Yoh miserably.

“You must do this,” whispers Yoh, still in Korean. 

“I don’t know if I can,” whispers Feilong in return. 

“Please,” says Yoh softly. “Not just because they’re making you…I want you to. In case it’s really the last…”

“Don’t say it,” snaps Feilong. “Don’t say it out loud. Yoh…the man I was could have done it in a heartbeat. But now…I’m not that man anymore. There won’t….wouldn’t be any pleasure in it for you.”

“The man you are now knows this body well enough to make sure that there IS,” disagrees Yoh stubbornly. “And I am a good enough actor to make sure they can’t tell.”

Feilong almost laughs, but he’s too scared. 

“Yoh,” he breathes, voice catching in his throat, “I don’t know why it took me so long to tell you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” responds Yoh instantly, although he doesn’t need to say it again, he’s been proving it for a very long time. “Now  love  me. Be with me. I don’t care that it’ll hurt. They can’t sully this, Feilong, and that’s what they’re trying to do. Make you betray me, betray my trust. They’re wrong.”

Feilong strokes one hand up Yoh’s flank, palm coming to rest on his ass, his other hand going to his own cock. His fingers wrap around and he strokes softly, coaxing and willing his body to respond, drinking in the sight of Yoh bent submissively before him, doing his best to ignore their audience and not to think about the baseball bat.

“Does he know?” breathes Yoh almost imperceptibly. He means Asami, but doesn’t want their captors to hear him say the name.

“I hope so,” replies Feilong, praying fervently that Asami was able to pick up on his clues.

“Then fuck me,” says Yoh earnestly. “And make it last!”

**************************************

Akihito has been naked. He’s been tied up with his legs splayed wide and the cheeks of his bottom pulled open while not one but two men have fingered and licked and fucked his tiny asshole, unable to escape and shown no mercy. But he has never felt as exposed as he does when Asami parks the Bugatti behind a big warehouse on the edge of Keiyo and is told to get out of the car. As they slip along the darkened streets like shadows, he imagines he can feel a sniper’s sights between his shoulder blades.

“They’d hear the engine,” says Asami by way of explanation, and Aki supposes he’s right. But the building-by-building search is agonizing as Asami waits for Kirishima to have success with the cab companies. Surely they’ll have guards outside the building? He hesitantly asks Asami about this one of the times they meet up between buildings to report that they haven’t found anything yet. Asami spares him and grim smile.

“You’re thinking, and that’s good,” he murmurs. “But no. That would give away their location, and they’re anticipating being prepared for us if we come. They won’t have counted on you.”

Aki’s chest swells with pride when Asami says this, because even though it may BE lip service, it doesn’t FEEL like it. It FEELS like Asami is proud of him, considers him an asset. He’s sure of it a bit later when his lover appears out of a shadow and grasps his arm, and finger to his lips.

“I heard a sound from that one,” he hisses, lips pressed against Akihito’s ear, and indicates the industrial facility he’s just checked. “Can you see a way in, to scout it?” 

Aki looks up, perusing the roof and all its various vents. It has a rusty length of an old service ladder bolted to the side of the building that obviously hasn’t been used in years, as it no longer even reaches the roof, but a few feet to the side of it is a sturdy downspout he judges to be considerably newer. The building is about two stories tall, although it doesn’t actually have a second floor, but is one big open warehouse. There’s a row of small windows all the way around, at what is probably ceiling height from inside. They’re way too small to be considered a weak point, for Asami or Suoh or even Kirishima would never fit through them. But Akihito can. He grins fiercely at Asami and nods, then he’s off, running lightly on the balls of his feet, and he scampers up the side of the building like a monkey, swinging easily from the ladder to the downspout and then shimmying to the roof. He creeps along, checking the windows for one that is broken, or unlatched, and finds one about hallway around the warehouse. He peers over the edge and sees Asami watching him from the shadow of a box truck. He waves once and then hangs over the edge of the roof, peering into the broken window. It’s dark inside, but that doesn’t necessarily mean their quarry isn’t here, for there are a few walled-off rooms and offices inside. He squeezes through the small opening and hangs, panting a little with terror and excitement, over a ten-foot drop to a catwalk below. He waits until his arms grow tired, listening and watching intently, then drops to the catwalk, bending his knees so he’ll land softly. A quick search reveals that the noise Asami heard came from a radio someone had left on when they’d gone home earlier in the day. He leaves it and slips out a side door that locks behind him, shaking his head grimly as he trots to Asami’s side. 

After about an hour of searching amongst the hundreds of businesses which make up the Keiyo district, Aki hears Asami’s radio click in his ear as they meet once again to strategize the sweep of the next block. Asami murmurs softly to Kirishima to go ahead. He listens, then nods at Aki and sets of running into the night. Aki has to almost sprint to keep up with him. Asami’s legs are a good eight inches longer than his, but he sticks to his lover’s side as they hurry. Kirishima hadn’t gotten an address, but an intersection. This is still better than the blind searching they’ve been doing up until now. Feilong probably won’t have had the cab drop him off right in front of the building he was going to, but it won’t be far either. In the distance, Aki can faintly hear the sound of a helicopter’s rotors. In and of itself, the sound won’t alarm their quarry so long as it doesn’t get too close. Air traffic in and around Tokyo never stops, and there are always weather and traffic cams carried by various news choppers scanning the city and its skies for anything interesting. Asami’s men will hang back until the last minute, allowing Asami and Akihito to get into position before landing and joining in. There’s no way to silence a helicopter, and no reason for one to be landing in this quiet district at this time of night.

Once they have the correct vicinity, finding the building where Yoh and Feilong are being held is a matter of a few minutes’ search. A number of the businesses, factories and warehouses in the area leave some of their lights on at night, which has slowed their search quite a bit, necessitating a closer look at all of the businesses that aren’t completely dark. But only one in the block near the taxi’s drop-off point has two nondescript black sedans and a plain white cargo van with the back doors left open parked behind the warehouse. Heart pounding, Akihito scans the building for places he can gain access without being seen. One of the huge vent fans set into the upper eaves of the big metal warehouse is missing a few of its slats. It will be a tight fit, even for him, but he’s sure he can make it. His hazel eyes peruse the outer wall under the vent. There’s no convenient service ladder on this one. He mentally catalogues electric meters, a sign, downspout, and a couple of inexplicable holes in the steel siding that might have once held duct work or gauges. Unlike many of the others in this area, this building doesn’t appear to be in use anymore. It has an air of disuse about it, and the dilapidation of abandonment. He looks at Asami and nods, taking a deep breath and wiping his sweaty palms on his dark gray cargo pants. Asami’s hand grabs him by the upper arm and squeezes tightly. Aki muffles a small pain sound and glares. Asami yanks him roughly against his body and whispers into his ear.

“If you can get in without alerting them to your presence, do so. Scout the situation and return to me with a report.”

“I know,” he hisses softly, nearly dancing in impatience.

“Akihito,” says Asami, his rich voice hoarse with anger and edgy nerves, “if they see you, they  will  kill you. Yoh and Feilong too. They won’t capture you. They won’t knock you over the head and toss you out. They won’t call the authorities. They’ll just shoot you. This is not the time for taking foolish risks. Once you go through that vent…Aki…everything that matters to me will be inside that building. Even if we…if we can’t save Fei and Yoh…you must come back to me. Do you hear me?”

Akihito opens his mouth to express his frustration at the time Asami’s costing him, but a glance at his lover’s face changes his mind. Asami’s usual aplomb is nowhere in sight. His golden eyes are cold and bleak. Powerful fingers dig bruises into his arm, but he forgets his protests and lays his other hand gently against the side of Asami’s face, the greasepaint sticky under his palm.

“Thank you for letting me come. For letting me help. I know it’s not easy for you,” he breathes softly.  “Thank you for letting me help save them. We will, Asami. We’ll save them. I’ll be careful. I promise. I’ll be really careful. If I get up there and I don’t think I can get in without making noise, I’ll come back. Okay?”

Asami nods shortly and covers Akihito’s mouth with his own in a brief, fierce kiss, then lets him go. Aki creeps up to the building while Asami fades back to keep a lookout from a better vantage point on top of an old dumpster in the parking lot. He’ll click Aki’s radio twice if anyone comes out of the building. He attaches a silencer to a long black rifle. A Howa M1500, he’d told Akihito back at the penthouse when he’d taken its case out of the safe. One of the few sniper rifles manufactured in Japan. He may as well have been speaking English for all that had meant to Akihito, but the rifle looks dangerous, and Asami looks like he knows how to use it.

His throat closes in terror as he begins to climb the outer wall of the old warehouse, now that he knows this is the right one, that there are men with guns on the other side of this very wall, that they have Yoh and Feilong in here, that they may be hurting them right now. He swallows past it and concentrates on placing his hands and feet just so, reassuring himself by thinking over another part of the conversation he’d had with Asami as the Veyron hurtled through the night.

“Why did you let me come?” he’d asked, curious now that they were under way and it’d be a lot harder for Asami to change his mind. “I mean, you’re always talking about chaining me to the bed to keep me safe.”

Asami’s amber eyes had cut sideways at him and one corner of his mouth had twitched.

“I decided that if I did that, you’d find some way to make that dangerous as well,” he’d quipped. Akihito had glared and punched him on the arm. The corner of that sinful mouth had lifted farther. “Have a care, Akihito. I intend that we shall all come out of this safe on the other side, and you may not wish for your cute little ass to cash all the checks your mouth is writing.”

“Okay okay, Mr. Delicate, I’m sorry I punched you. Here.” He’d leaned over and placed a loud, smacking kiss on the spot he’d punched. 

“To answer your question…you didn’t throw a tantrum. You argued your point, and what you said had merit. We believe this is about Feilong and his family, but we don’t know that for sure. Leaving you unguarded could be a huge mistake. Having you by my side is the only way I can be sure that you’re still in one piece. And you ARE a good investigator, Akihito. Don’t let the fact that you can’t pin anything on ME fool you. I don’t know anyone else who is as small and quick and agile as you. You weren’t wrong when you said I needed you. I don’t like it, but I can’t argue with your logic, so you’re coming along. The moment you disobey me, I will handcuff you and throw you in the very tiny trunk of this little car though. So do not test me.”

“He needs me,” chants Aki softly to himself as he carefully scales the warehouse. “He needs me. FeiFei needs me. I can do this.” And so he can. He reaches the big vent and peeks through the slats. To his joy, there’s a catwalk right inside, close enough to where he’s going to squeeze through that he won’t have to jump. He can’t see further into the warehouse from here, as there are some old crates blocking his view of the floor below…and thus blocking him from the view of anyone down there who might happen to look up. He grins delightedly and begins squeezing carefully through the opening created by the broken vent slats. He can hear voices inside, but not what they’re saying. There’s a loud slapping sound and a voice raises in anger. He closes his eyes against tears of relief that prick at them when he recognizes that the voice is Feilong’s. Holding his breath, he creeps up behind the stack of old crates and peers around the corner, looking down on the scene unfolding on the warehouse floor below. It’s all he can do to prevent himself from crying out in horror.

*************************************

There’s really no way to fuck a completely unprepared asshole but with brute force. Not to say that he doesn’t try to be careful. He does, but all the careful prodding in the world can’t change the fact that there’s no lubrication to ease his way and that Yoh is decidedly NOT relaxed under the circumstances. Feilong tenses when the man who had been his uncle, who had brought him candy for his birthday when he was small, and later, after Feilong had struggled and fought and bled to bring Baishe back from extinction, had bowed before him and sworn to serve him always, laughs sarcastically and calls out from across the room that he has one minute left.

“Feilong-sama,” whispers Yoh in Japanese. “You must.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers back miserably, his belly crawling at what he’s about to do. His hands grip Yoh’s hips firmly. He plants his feet, leans over the scarred and beautiful body beneath him…and shoves.

Feilong has seen Yoh withstand torture of other kinds without a sound. But both of them understand the mindset of their captors. They are bloodthirsty men, and they are riding the razor’s edge of the betrayal they imagine Feilong has perpetrated upon them. They want their prisoners to suffer, and will not be satisfied with anything less. Not giving them what they want will prove nothing in the end, and will only make them hurt Yoh and Feilong more. Thus Feilong quails inwardly at Yoh’s agonized scream when his body is torn open by Feilong’s brutal thrust, but he understands the reason Yoh does it. His pain is real. Feilong can tell by how difficult he finds it to gain entry into Yoh’s unyielding flesh, and by the damning crimson smear on his cock when he pulls back to thrust again. It’s just that he knows Yoh has felt worse in his life, and that his screams are, at least to some degree, feigned. This is all that keeps bitter tears from filling his eyes.  After a few minutes, it becomes easier. Feilong’s dick doesn’t care that he’s hurting Yoh, and his way is eased, either by blood or by Yoh’s body finally loosening up enough to accept him, or both. He angles his hips, because he knows without having to try where the place is inside Yoh’s body that makes his toes curl, makes him see stars and cry out helplessly beneath Feilong , because Yoh has expressed his faith that Fei can show him at least a little pleasure in this, and Feilong doesn’t like to let Yoh down.

“Oh,” whispers Yoh between pained moans, “oh  there.  “

There’s no excuse for it, really, except that they are both focused so hard on trying to take what may well be their last moments together and turn them from something horrific into something….well… less  horrific anyway. Pain explodes along Feilong’s back and he’s too startled to bite back a cry of pain. His oldest cousin, the one who takes after their father the most…and the one who always tried hardest to be just like his cousin Yantzu….pulls his arm back for another blow.

“I got bored,” he leers, and lashes Feilong across his back again. He gets a better look at the implement this time and the spit dries in his mouth. The three-foot-long instrument is a sjambok. Used in South Africa by cattlemen, police, and prison guards, it is one of the most vicious implements of pain Feilong has ever known, and he considers himself something of an expert. Traditionally made of dried, rolled rhinoceros hide, it tapers from almost two inches thick at the handle down to about the width of a man’s little finger at its tip. It is stiff, but flexible and springy. The hide of its construction is thick, hard and rough. Newer versions made of plastic exist, but this is an old school model, of the kind used to subdue slaves and protestors, and to punish prisoners. He’s seen footage of a prison beating where a grown man was strapped into a heavy wooden frame bolted to the ground, his bared buttocks and thighs beaten so hard with the sjambok that he bled from the first stroke, every inch of the flesh touched by the rod black with bruising, while he let out bloodcurdling screams and shook the frame so hard it almost came unbolted from the concrete floor.

“I’d hurry, if I were you,” advises his uncle from across the room. That’s when the fifth stroke cracks one of Feilong’s ribs. 


	3. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Help arrives. This one is a little bloody! I didn't want to keep anybody waiting too long!

Panting with terror, Aki makes his way back out the way he’d come in, gritting his teeth with frustration at the need for caution. He’s pretty sure every one of the sick fucks down there are way too into watching what they’re….what Feilong’s being made to do to...what they’e doing to his friend, his lover...but he can’t risk it, can’t betray Asami’s faith in him, not when it’s so new and fragile a thing and so precious to him. He eases through the broken slats in the giant vent fan and down the side of the building, sacrificing a little bit of care for speed, because they’re not likely to hear him dropping lightly to the ground and sprinting across the parking lot to the dumpster where Asami is hiding. Besides, once he’s clear of the building, if anyone comes out and sees him, they’re in Asami’s sights before Aki would even know they were there. His faith in this is absolute. He doesn’t look back. He’s as safe as houses with Asami watching his back. He knows that once he’s close enough for Asami to see anything of his expression, though he has to get pretty close because of the greasepaint, that it gives a lot away. Asami’s facial expression is grim and cold and he pulls Aki behind the dumpster and reaches over to tap his ear bud, opening a radio channel so that Kirishima and Suoh can hear his report. Akihito reaches up and turns it off again, shaking his head. There are some things they don’t need to hear. Asami’s expression goes even colder.

“I won’t...I won’t do the...um...official report part? Until I turn it back on. I won’t waste time telling it twice. FeiFei...he wouldn’t want me to tell them...okay?”

Asami takes a deep breath and nods shortly.

“Oh Asami...they’re making him...making him f...fuck Yoh. They’ve taken both their clothes. They’re...watching. And they’re...they’re beating him with something, some kind of stick, like a cane only it’s...it’s worse...it’s cutting him and his...his skin it’s...it’s already black where they’ve hit him. They’re...they’re  taping  it.” He chokes back sobs, but tears run unchecked down his face. Asami touches his cheek, wipes at a tear with his thumb and nods. 

“We’ll do our best to protect their dignity, Aki. But their lives are more important to me, you understand?”

“Yeah. I do. I just...I didn’t want to say it while they’re listening. I’m ready now.” He takes a shuddery breath and taps his radio again. Asami asks if Kirishima can hear, and then nods at Akihito. “Okay. It’s...it’s a two story warehouse but there’s no second floor. A cat walk around three sides, not on the front door side. At the back, by the vent where I went in, there’s a loft for storing stuff. It’s...maybe 15 feet deep, and as wide as the building, so...fifty feet I guess? There are two stacks of old crates up there. I had a good um...vantage point. They’re all in the back half of the warehouse, but spread out. There’s a table in the middle of the floor, maybe 20 feet from the back wall, where Yoh and Feilong are, plus two men and a...a video camera. They all have guns, but only three of them are holding them right now. There’s a bag of gear, and a baseball bat on the floor...plus Feilong and Yoh’s clothes. They’re...they’re both hurt. The front door is steel, and it’s locked I think. There’s one old bay door, but I saw a padlock on it, and it looks really rusty, so I don’t think it would open very easy. All their cars are in the back parking lot, but there’s still room here for the helicopter.”

“We’ll disable the cars before we go in,” Asami adds. Even if they have car alarms, Asami has these really cool little bug things like the police use sometimes that go under cars and send out an emp pulse that disables all electrical systems without damaging the vehicle. Asami asks Aki some questions, and he does his best to answer them clearly. No, he doesn’t think they’re wearing vests or any other kind of body armor, their jackets fit them too close. They don’t look bulky. He doesn’t see any shotguns or rifles, but there might be one in the gear bag. No, Yoh and Feilong aren’t restrained. There’s a knife pinning Yoh’s hand to the table. Asami grins viciously when he hears this.

“Well, at least he’s armed,” he says with satisfaction. Yes, Akihito reports, Feilong’s hair is pulled back. In a ponytail, but with extra weird puffs and twists in it. Asami’s grin gets sharper. He fills in a few more details about what’s inside the warehouse for them.

Kirishima compliments Akihito on making a very thorough report. He’s not sure, but he thinks he even hears Suoh grunt in a vaguely agreeable fashion. A plan is quickly devised. Akihito runs over and quickly deploys the little electric bugs under the cars while Asami pulls a flashbang grenade and a lock gun out of his own bag. When Akihito comes back, he hands him the sniper rifle. Aki takes it, slinging it over his shoulder. If he can’t fit it through the vent with him, he’ll leave it hanging from one of the broken slats for Kirishima. There’s a ladder strapped to one of the struts of the chopper, so once it touches down, he’ll join Aki on the catwalk, where Akihito will be REMAINING HIDDEN AT ALL COSTS. He tucks the grenade in his pocket. He’s only going to throw it if Asami has trouble with the door and Feilong’s “relatives” are alerted too soon. Asami doesn’t want him to toss it over the rail unless he really has to, because it will render Yoh and Feilong deaf and blind, as well as their captors, and though they are both hurt, Asami is counting on them helping to even the odds a little during the few minutes it will take Kirishima and Suoh to get on the ground. They’re not going to land until Asami shoots the lock and has the door open.

Choking back nausea, Aki makes his way back up the side of the warehouse. His hands are more sweaty than last time, and he nearly loses his grip twice, relieved Asami can’t see him, because he’s already making his way silently around to the front of the building with the lock gun in one hand and a pistol in the other. It takes him a little longer, but he manages to get himself and the M1500 through the opening, then crouches behind the crates and peers down to see what’s happening below. He’s to click his radio at a moment when he thinks nobody’s attention is really on the front door. 

He gets there just in time to hear what the oldest man says to Feilong.

***************************************

“Hurry up and finish if you don’t want Zhang to continue to...encourage you,” says his Uncle during a brief pause in the proceedings while his cousin wipes blood off the sjambok. It’s gotten slippery. Feilong laughs weakly. He’s not even hard anymore, and it’s pure luck that he hasn’t slipped from Yoh’s body.

“O-oh? Do I get a p-prize?” he asks, his teeth chattering a little. His lips are cold. He’s pretty sure he’s in shock.

“Yeah,” sneers one of the other cousins. Li Wang, he thinks, but what difference does it make? “Then HE gets to fuck YOU...for as long as he can before Zhang beats him to death.”

The older man curses angrily at his son and tells Feilong not to listen to him, that as long as he does what they want, and tells Tao what they want him to say, they’ll make it quick. He’d almost welcome that at this point. Except that he knows it for a lie. Once he gives them what they want, they will torture he and Yoh to death, as slowly and as painfully as possible, videotaping his humiliation and defeat to show to the enemies of Baishe as a warning. 

“I think….I’ll pa-pass,” he gasps, biting back a groan when Zhang finishes wiping down his lovely toy and slices it across Feilong’s ass, then his lower back. His vision goes gray with agony. Oh gods, he’ll be pissing blood for a month if he survives this. He’s holding out as long as he can, but if help doesn’t come soon, he’s going to make them kill him. There’s a knife right there in Yoh’s hand, and he thinks he might have enough strength left to take Zhang with him at least.   Oh Asami, he thinks hazily, I tried. He pictures Akihito’s laughing face, his shining eyes and the way his cheeks turn pink when Feilong whispers dirty things in his ear, and how miraculous it is that he’s had this in his life even for a little while. He tries to fix their images in his mind, hoping that they’ll give him courage to pull that knife out and die on his feet like a man. If he had any way to let Yoh know what he intends, he knows they would face death side by side, or back to back, but his tongue is thick with pain and shock, and he can’t put together enough words in any of the foreign languages they both speak to warn him. Now if only he can manage to keep from passing out long enough….

A number of things happen almost simultaneously then. One of the cousins raises his head from watching avidly as Feilong begins to slowly die for them and says,

“Is that a helicopter?”

There is a distinct click, and the front door slams open. A man dressed head to toe in black does a shoulder roll through the opening, coming up into a crouch and shooting one of the cousins in the throat with a blinding gleam of white teeth bared in a visage stained as black as the smoky pits of hell. 

That Feilong’s guardian angel looks more like a demon is an irony he even manages to appreciate in his current state.

“Asami,” he breathes. 

They move as one, he and Yoh, while the attention of their captors shifts to the invader, guns raised, while Asami rolls again, towards a pallet of old wooden crates as though he knew they’d be there. Yoh yanks the knife out of his own hand with a snarl. Feilong stands and reaches into his hair. No one ever thinks to search his hair. He flings one throwing spike almost negligently, grinning madly when it lodges in someone’s eye. He doesn’t care who, as long as it’s not Yoh’s or Asami’s, and his aim will NEVER be that bad. The thin piano wire glides free and he spins, kicking Zhang’s arm as he swings the sjambok towards Feilong’s face. It flies from his cousin’s grip with the satisfying sound of bone breaking, and the wire is around Zhang’s throat before he can finish letting out his first and last shriek of agony. Feilong leans in and licks a long stripe up the side of the man’s face as his eyes bulge and his fingers scrabble uselessly at the garrotte. He smiles pleasantly at the horror in Zhang’s eyes and sighs impatiently, tapping his foot through the few more seconds it takes him to finish his torturer. He lets the body slump to the floor.

The   whup whup whup  sound of a chopper’s blades slowing can be heard outside. Someone large and muscular barrels through the door with a submachine gun rattling. Suoh. Feilong glances around for Yoh and his stomach lurches. His knife is buried in Li Wang’s neck, but he’s on the ground now, clutching his side where blood slides almost black between his fingers. No. Oh no. There’s a loud crack from above, and the man who has shot Yoh collapses in a heap.

It’s over then. His uncle surrenders, throwing down his gun and falling to his knees with his hands in the air. Asami stands over him with the barrel of his Sig pressed to Li Chen’s forehead. Feilong barely notices Suoh throwing a blanket over his shoulders as he staggers to Yoh’s side. Yoh looks up at him, his skin waxy pale. His lips quirk up at the corners.

“I’m sorry, Feilong-sama,” he whispers.

“For what?” Feilong whispers back, his hand stroking the sticky hair back from Yoh’s forehead where his blood from earlier has dried. “You’re not going to die! I won’t let you!”

“N-no,” says Yoh weakly, struggling to remain conscious. “It’s a clean shot, through and through. Nothing vital. I think I’m going to pass out soon, but that’s not what I meant.”

“Whatever can you possibly have to be sorry for  now ?” asks Feilong, leaning down to press a kiss to his lover’s forehead.

“I’m afraid I’m not going to look very good on Holiday cards.” He gestures weakly with his free hand at the bloody wound on the side of his head.

“Don’t worry,” says Feilong, suddenly on the verge of tears. “We’ll just make sure Akihito only shoots you from the other side.”

“That’s okay,” says Aki, appearing at Feilong’s elbow to his very great astonishment. “I put your ear in the freezer, Yoh. We’ll get it sewn back on.”

Feilong laughs silently, shoulders shaking, while Kirishima gently takes Yoh from him and applies a rapid field dressing to his gunshot wound. He turns and throws his arms around Akihito’s thighs and buries his face in the boy’s tummy as the shakes turn to tears.

“I thought I would never see you again,” he whispers.

“Nah,” says Akihito, grinning proudly. “You shoulda known we’d come for you, Ani. We’d burn the world to keep you safe.”

*****************************

Aki wants to take Feilong with them when they load Yoh in the helicopter and Asami sends him along with Kirishima to meet his personal physician at the penthouse. Feilong can tell Akihito knows perfectly well he’s being gotten rid of, but he doesn’t put up TOO much of a fuss. He knows why they’re doing it, and doesn’t seem to mind terribly that he’ll be spared what they’re going to do now.

“Can you stand, Bishounen?” murmurs Asami in his ear, coming to wrap his arm around Feilong’s shoulder. Suoh keeps Li Chen under close guard. The man is babbling something about how much money he will give them, and how he swears they will leave Feilong alone forever, but no one is responding to him.

“Yes,” says Feilong, even though he really wishes he could say no. His legs are shaking, his teeth chattering harder than before. He hurts all over in ways he has never dreamed of hurting. The stabbing pain in his side makes him wonder if his ribs are broken badly enough to be in danger of puncturing a lung. He stands up straight, very slowly, and Asami helps him secure the blanket around his battered body. He can see spatters of his own blood shining on the concrete floor where he has been kneeling beside Yoh. He staggers a little, vision tunneling, spots dancing before his eyes, but he grits his teeth and flatly refuses to faint. Slowly, and with great dignity, he walks to stand in front of his defeated relative.

“Have mercy, Liu Fei Long,” stammers Li Chen. “I was wrong! You and you alone are Baishe’s rightful leader, no matter whose blood you carry! We will never plot against you again. It was you who brought us back from ruin, not Yan Tzu. Baishe is yours!”

“Baishe,” says Feilong coldly, “is dead. I quit. You have no one to lead you now.”

“Liu Tao will…”

“Liu Tao will choose his own path, without your venom and hatred to influence him,” snaps Feilong.

“I could go back as your spokesman, make sure everyone else who had begun to lose faith in you understands that you are our true and rightful leader,” cries his uncle desperately.

“That would be impossible. Everyone who came to Japan to murder me died in the attempt,” replies Feilong coldly, holding out his hand. He feels Asami’s pistol, its grip warm from his hand, slide into his open palm. Li Chen starts to babble and attempt to bribe them again. Part of Feilong wishes he could have Asami do this for him. He’s heartily sick of his family, and can’t wait to be shed of them, save for Tao, who he will now be giving the opportunity to grow up as a normal (if extremely wealthy) boy and to grow into the man he believes that boy will one day become, one who rejects everything his biological relatives stood for.  But he has to do it, for himself, and for Yoh. Then something occurs to him, and he’s just petty enough to share it.

“By the way,” he says casually, leaning down to stare into his enemy’s eyes. “HE fucks ME up the ass, not the other way around.,” he whispers lasciviously, nodding towards Asami. “And I. Love. It.”

It’s a clean shot. Liu Fei Long’s days of torture are over.


End file.
